


A Story Written On His Face

by Chasitykins



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Drinking, Fluff, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 17:35:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7811005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chasitykins/pseuds/Chasitykins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mitch, the uneasy chatterbox and owner of the finest bar in Far Harbor, was gobsmacked when Nate brought his uncle home. The mainlander has a way of charming his way into everyone's heart if he can bring crotchety Uncle Ken to Far Habor. Mitch is so charmed by Nate, he's tongue-tied.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Story Written On His Face

Mitch kept his gaze on Nate. His lips glistened with vodka, and his eyes twinkled with the remains of battle lust. The blemishes on his face, a mix of age and scars, told a story.

And Mitch wanted to know every chapter.

This mainlander had stunned the words out of him by bringing Uncle Ken home. All the regulars in the bar knew Mitch was off tonight, and they gladly kept giving him shit for it. Even the cat seemed to mock him.

Nate met Mitch’s stolen glances every now and then. Allowed the corners of his mouth to curve upward. Let the moment linger.

Once the bottle didn’t have a drop left in it, Nate wobbled to his feet and bid the tiny crowd farewell. He threw his arm around Longfellow and said he was ready to leave.

Mitch wasn’t ready.

He still hadn’t said a proper “thank you” yet, dammit. Free alcohol wasn’t enough. He gave that stuff out pretty liberally, even the top shelf stock.

Heat rose from his chest up to his face as his mind raced for ways to keep Nate around for a few minutes more. But all he could do was stand behind the bar and bite his lip. Nate and Longfellow left, and Mitch couldn’t even find the courage to wave good-bye.

Nate, the lone bit of light on this cursed island. Likely to get himself swallowed by Gulpers or clubbed over the head by the Children within the next few days. Maybe Red Death would be Nate’s ending, since he seemed the type foolish enough to tackle on the legend.

And Mitch was going to let him die without expressing the gratitude bubbling in his heart. He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

Sleep proved impossible. Every time Mitch drifted off, Nate’s hearty chuckle hummed through his body. Before the break of dawn’s first light, he slumped downstairs to the bar and rewashed every glass. Dusted the bottles. Wondered which of his patrons owned the knife draped carelessly on a bar stool. Rewrote his will since the fog appeared thicker than normal.

A frenzied vision played in Mitch’s head as he signed his name. A dream where Nate whisked him, Uncle Ken, Debby, and everyone else off the island. Mitch would make sure every passenger on the ship stayed liquored up during the trip, and then he would give the captain his entire special stock once his feet touched the mainland.

Assuming that captain was Nate. And that Nate possibly wouldn’t mind sharing a few tastes with Mitch. Alone.

Mitch’s fantasy shattered with an urgent knock at the side door. He glanced outside. Still dark. And hopelessly foggy.

He grabbed the knife and unlocked the door. He opened it just an inch, and to his surprise, he recognized the scruffy features of one Nate Mainlander. Or whatever his real last name might be.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry, Mitch.” Nate had a wool knit cap on, covering his ears. It suited him terribly well. As did his glowing cheeks and the dark circles under his eyes. “I left a knife here last night. Can you find it for me?”

“Huh?” Mitch opened the door wider and held the knife up. “This one?”

Nate broke into a smile and took his weapon. “You’re my hero. This knife means a lot to me. How can I thank you?”

“No, I, this is nothing.” Mitch swallowed hard. “Nothing compared to you risking every bone in your body to bring my uncle back here. I… I really want to thank you for that. Properly. Yesterday, my tongue was out of service. I couldn’t say anything. And now I—“

“So it’s working today?” Nate wrapped his hand around Mitch’s wrist and drew the flustered bar owner close to him.

His touch set Mitch’s heart and face on fire. It also made Mitch forget everything he was going to say.

“Uh, yes, but my brain isn’t. Apparently.”

“That’s fine.”

Nate’s arms enveloped Mitch in a warm embrace. He cocked his head to the side, and Mitch realized they were going to kiss. For one magical moment, Mitch forgot about the fog. The island’s curse. The Children of Atom.

All he thought about was Nate’s hot, wet mouth on his.

He tasted like vodka, freshly harvested razorgrain, and adventure. This was the essence Vim should have captured in their Captain’s Blend. His lips were coarse and chapped in sharp contrast to Mitch’s softer mouth. And Mitch needed them to press harder into his face, enough so he could never fully wash Nate off him.

Mitch ran his fingertips lightly along Nate’s cheeks and jaw while they kissed. He tried to trace each line and commit it to memory. Sucked on Nate’s bottom lip and envisioned a chapter for his blemishes. He imagined a thousand battles, a hundred nights of partying, a few lovers, countless laughs.

Nate broke the kiss after a minute, but he left his lips teasingly close to Mitch.

“Oh my God,” he groaned. “I’ve been wanting to do this since last night.”

“Really?” Mitch shivered.

“When I brought your uncle back, you looked at me like I had parted the ocean in half.” Nate pecked him. “I was smitten instantly. This fine leather jacket helps too. Men with bold fashion tastes are a weakness of mine. Tragically, I got way too smashed to try anything with you.”

Mitch buried his face in the crook of Nate’s neck. It was too hard to look at him, and his face was too flushed. He was pretty sure steam was leaking out of his ears. “Did you leave that knife here on purpose?”

“I plead the fifth.”

“A fifth of what? Vodka?”

Nate laughed and hugged him tightly. “Yes. I left it on purpose.”

“So it’s not important?”

“It gave me an excuse to see you alone. It’s the most important knife out there.” Nate sighed. “But I do have to go. Trappers to eradicate and all that. But I’ll be back tonight. If you want me to return.”

Mitch’s first impulse was to stop Nate. Shove a pint of beer in his hand and beg him to stay. Remind him of the various ways he could die.

But Nate had been helping all of Far Harbor, Mitch included. No doubt his quest today involved fulfilling someone’s request. Nate was strong, resourceful. He had lots of chapters left in his story.

Chapters Mitch might be a part of.

He pressed his lips against Nate’s softly and captured one more taste of the mainlander.

“I’ve got a bottle of whisky with your name on it when you come back, you big, rugged hero. But you have to pay for it.”

Nate grinned. “How much?”

“Five caps. Cost of the room upstairs.” Mitch adjusted the cap on Nate’s head, as it had gotten a bit off-kilter.

“Five? I thought it was ten.”

“I’m splitting it with you.”


End file.
